


Sparkly

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 06:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21423865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis and Prompto clothes-ish shopping.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	Sparkly

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Generally speaking, Noctis doesn’t buy his clothes. Ignis buys things for him, or the crown thrusts things upon him, and sometimes he even gets oversized but comfortable hand-me-downs from Gladiolus. But Prompto shops like what Noctis assumes is a normal person, and Noctis tags along, because he keeps unrealistically thinking that Prompto will consent to making out in the changing rooms. Or maybe he can squeeze Prompto into a minidress and fuck him up against the mirror. They’d get banned for life, but that’s why they’d pick a women’s wear outlet they probably wouldn’t go back to anyway. Or Noctis would flash his title if he absolutely had to. Surely as the crown prince of Insomnia, he’s allowed to get away with certain victimless crimes, like nailing his super hot boyfriend within a small area of privacy carved out of public spaces. Sure, someone might catch them, but it’s not like they’d be a victim of anything nefarious. Prompto’s absolutely gorgeous when he’s getting fucked. That innocent bystander should _be so lucky_ to see something like that. Surely any cops who got called out would understand. 

Prompto doesn’t seem so understanding, because he stops Noctis every time Noctis tries to follow him into the back. He slaps Noctis’ hand away when Noctis tries to cop a feel in the jean department. But he also taunts Noctis mercilessly, picking out ridiculous tight, form-fitted clothes, and coming out to pull exaggerated poses in them. He winks at Noctis and asks, “What do you think? How’s my ass look?”

Noctis just answers with a glare, because Prompto knows damn well what Noctis thinks of his ass. Noctis _loves it_. Noctis would throw him right over a table in the food court and eat him out for lunch if given the opportunity. But then Prompto sways back into the changing rooms and comes out again in his usual scrumptious skinny-jeans and tank top. By the time they’re done, both their fabric bags are stuffed full.

Then they pass a bright fuchsia accessory shop, and Prompto muses, “Maybe I should get some new wristbands...”

Noctis notes, “I thought you were on a budget,” because Prompto wouldn’t let him buy anything. Which was probably smart. Because if Noctis had bought Prompto’s pants, it’d be easier to demand they come off later. 

Prompto grins and lifts one of the bags. “Yeah, but my holiday bonus came through! And I got these babies two-for-one.”

“And you got a rich boyfriend.”

“And I got a creepy sugar daddy that keeps trying to buy my love.”

Noctis snorts and elbows him; Prompto laughs and playfully dodges. They squeeze into the shop around the many over-stuffed racks of fluffy keychains. There are several patrons already inside, all teenage girls. Noctis is secure enough in his masculinity that that doesn’t bother him. That, and he’s distracted by picturing each new set of jewelry he sees on Prompto. 

While Prompto looks at a wall of sporty wristbands, Noctis starts plucking up necklaces and draping them over Prompto’s head, tags still on. Prompto snorts but doesn’t stop him. Noctis weighs Prompto down like an exotic dancer laden with expensive gold trinkets, and then spots a bright red headband with a giant bow on it. He tucks it into Prompto’s yellow hair and decides he loves the look. Prompto giggles, “What’re you dong to me?”

“You’re adorable,” Noctis mutters. He pecks Prompto’s cheek, then finds a clip on bow and adds that to one of Prompto’s spaghetti straps. Prompto reaches for a wristband, but his hand gets sidetracked as Noctis grabs it and starts loading it with shimmering bracelets and a few rings. He decides he very much likes piling glitter onto Prompto. He adds a few more pieces of jewelry and gaudy bows, then starts eying the makeup. 

Before he can grab any of the samplers, Prompto moves away from the wall, a wristband in hand. He takes it to the counter, still completely done up in Noctis’ ridiculous choices. He tells the cashier—a deadpanned woman in her seventies who looks like her soul violently died twenty years ago—“Just this, please.”

But Noctis corrects, “All of it.”

Prompto ‘pfft’s. “What’m I gonna do with all of this?”

“You’re gonna wear it.” Before Prompto can ask why in the world Noctis would want that, Noctis clarifies, “And _only_ it.”

Prompto rolls his eyes. But he doesn’t fight it. He leaves looking like an idiot, but _Noctis’_ idiot, so Noctis is having a fantastic day.


End file.
